


Glamour

by Scribe



Series: Glamour 'verse [1]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 16:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribe/pseuds/Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know, if you can see magic it really should be in your file.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glamour

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for ds_snippets, but that rather obviously didn't work out as planned. I blame letting Fraser narrate.

At first Fraser intends to feign ignorance, at least until he can alert Lieutenant Welsh to the situation and perhaps call in a specialist. A direct confrontation would only endanger him needlessly. The day spirals out of his control, though, and in the end the stranger wearing Ray Vecchio's face takes a bullet for him, the fact that he is wearing a department-issue repellant charm in no way lessening the bravery of the act. Of course there are reasons he could want Fraser alive and still be no friend to him, but after everything Fraser finds that he cannot help but trust this man, trust that whatever his goal he will take Fraser's knowledge in stride.

"What's your name?" he asks. It seems simplest.

"Ray Vecchio," says the stranger, giving him a baffled look. They're sitting by the side of the road, waiting for a squad car to retrieve them and the well-restrained Miss Garbo. The stranger is rubbing distractedly at his chest where the charm's flare no doubt singed him. From what Fraser saw, the charm itself was of a different- and significantly better- make than those he and Ray Vecchio have occasionally been issued on dangerous cases, which only makes him more curious about the stranger's origins.

"You saved my life," he points out. "I would like to thank you properly. Also, I would like to know the whereabouts of my friend, if he is indeed still alive." It is a fight to keep his voice even on that last sentence. The stranger winces and looks away, and Fraser experiences a moment of sheer, blind panic until he speaks.

"He's undercover. Turns out Vecchio's a dead ringer for some guy high up in the Las Vegas mob, so the feds pulled him in, trained him up, and sent him out. More than that I do not know, and you shouldn't even know that."

"I appreciate you telling me." He can breathe again- at least Ray is alive- but he is far from relaxing. The assignment can be nothing but dangerous, and Ray is alone and inexperienced, without the help Fraser could provide.

"I don't quite understand, though," he says. "Why couldn't they send you to Las Vegas? Ray's no magician."

"No good. You can't hold a glamour while you sleep. They figured no one was gonna be spying on Vecchio's bedroom, but you want deep undercover, twenty-four seven, you have to do it the regular way." The stranger turns to look at him. "You know, if you can see magic it really should be in your file," he adds.

"Ah. I can't see it, precisely."

"Sure seems like it."

"I'm afraid I can taste it," he admits. The stranger lets out a disbelieving laugh.

"The sandwich?"

"The sandwich," Fraser confirms. He runs his tongue over his teeth, remembering fitting his mouth to the bitten bread, the distinctive chalky tang left behind. "It isn't nearly as useful as sight, but I'm also not legally required to report it. I always wanted to join the RCMP, you see."

"And if you let on they'd transfer you right out to some specialty force. Well, your secret's safe with me."

"And yours with me," says Fraser. He would never do anything to endanger Ray Vecchio, of course, but he finds that he means it as a promise to this man, as well.

"Wait a second," says the stranger. "If you don't know until you taste, how did you know to give me the sandwich?" 

"Oh. Diefenbaker warned me. You must know that glamours don't fool animals."

The stranger hits himself in the forehead with the heel of one hand, a gesture that has nothing of Ray Vecchio in it at all.

"Of course. You know, I told them the dog was going to be a problem."

"Wolf," corrects Fraser.

"Wolf, right. I told them, and did they listen to me? No. I said, look, the guy is famous for talking to the dog- sorry, wolf- like it's a person, what if he notices it acting weird around me? Nobody cared."

"I'm sure I would have discovered you sooner or later, even without Diefenbaker's help."

"Yeah, probably. Thanks, by the way. For not freaking out on me."

"You're welcome."

"It's, uh, it is Ray, actually. Ray Kowalski." The stranger offers him Ray Vecchio's hand, and Fraser takes it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ray Kowalski," he says. "Thank you for saving my life."

 

He does keep the secret, from everyone but Lieutenant Welsh, but he has no idea how the others remain fooled. It is easy for Fraser to see the outline of someone else under the veneer of Ray Vecchio, unfamiliar expressions on a familiar face, altered speaking patterns, a different gait. He admires Ray Kowalski greatly but it remains unnerving to look at him and see the face of a friend he misses and worries for.

One day in July Ray presses a newly cut key into his hand.

"You should come by tonight," he says, the idle drumming of his fingers betraying an anxiety Ray Vecchio wouldn't have felt. "If you want. I was thinking I might go to bed early."

Fraser goes.

Ray Kowalski asleep is blonde and wiry and pale, and very real, and somehow not what Fraser was expecting. He looks for a long time and then he leaves, but at work Ray grins him an invitation again so he comes back the next night, and the night after that he stays. When the alarm sounds in the morning he puts his hand on a forearm, warm skin and light hair, a first touch. The eyes that open and look up at him are blue. He says,

"Not yet. All the curtains are closed, no one can see. Leave it off for a little."

Ray Kowalski awake is every movement and glance and word that Fraser has come to know so well, settled in a body where they belong. 

Even without the glamour he tastes of magic.


End file.
